


Play

by drosera



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drosera/pseuds/drosera
Summary: Jeritza plays with his food.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Jeritza von Hrym
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	Play

Felix hasn’t missed this, cool hands around his throat, the throbbing in his eye sockets as bone-white fingers nearly crush his windpipe. He cannot miss what he cannot feel or truly remember until he is here again, feeling the life in his body straining and churning and writhing in impermanence. He no longer feels present in his body, even as he feels his corporeal form being battered rhythmically, his hips creaking, his hole aching with the burn and stretch and slam. Jeritza is breathing steadily above him as he uses Felix like a soldier might carelessly use a well-oiled lambskin sleeve in wartime. 

Felix feels his breath wake from its forgetfulness, rising like the crest of wave after a storm, cold and crushing. He doesn’t recognize his own voice as he wheezes, begs. Jeritza’s hands have moved from his throat to his ribcage, the unforgiving fingers digging into his ribs and under as he lifts Felix for better leverage. He shows no sign of pleasure, but no sign of displeasure either. His eyes are squinted in what Felix realizes must be Jeritza’s version of contentment, even as he is jostled harshly about. Jeritza has captured his quarry and is playing with his food like a great and terrible cat. 

There is no point in losing consciousness, Felix realizes, because Jeritza simply will not stop. 

He feels himself move, shift forward, wrap his legs around Jeritza’s steely hips and _pull_. Jeritza’s exhale is as close to a laugh as Felix will ever get out of him, even as he slows his pace to maddening thrusts that hit slow but deep. Felix can feel his own vocalizations being taken from him slowly but steadily, like a single thread being pulled from his stomach out of his throat. They trickle out of his throat not freely given and frayed, raw. 

He is telling Jeritza not to stop as if the words mean anything to a man who would probably fuck him until his blood ran cold into the earth. Felix is not bleeding this time, though Jeritza is— a single slash through the chest, shallowly given. He wonders why Jertiza let him land it at all, for it was surely avoidable. It smears hotly onto Felix’s chest as Jeritza bends him, drips torturously as another, quieter rhythm in the background. It is proof that Jeritza has a heart that still beats, even if only as a technicality. He does not fight like someone who has a body at all, or at least not like someone who is hindered by one. 

And yet his physicality bears down on Felix, presses him into the dust of the training grounds so that he can feel the grit of it in his fingers as he fists the earth ineffectually. He is drooling because there is no meaning to this, and Jeritza is laughing at him silently as Felix comes, arcing his back like a drawn bowstring and howling near-voicelessly at the black sky.


End file.
